Basic Challenge, Whatever That Is

Sorry guys, it's been a while since I've written in here. I just wanted to comment on the latest Challenge dancing. It's a challenge! I danced at the C1 workshop on Wednesday night, and the dancing was mentally taxing. I sat out one tip, and that was a relief. To be constantly thinking about square dance calls really gums up my neurons.

Keeping the calls separate in my head challenges me, too. I've come up with some strange mnemonics that seem to be helping, for example, Tally-half, Hingyear Action, and Per · Co · Late, all of which give me clues about how to start the associated call.

When we were at Rehoboth, Mein and I took in the Intro to C2 workshop. One of the concepts that Ben Rubright taught is "Once Removed." Ben wasn't doing any real "mean" stuff with the concept, but it's really an interesting way to dance. In any box or line formation, centers play with the furthest ends, so it's a couples, mini-wave or box of four set up. It seemed similar to interconnected blocks, except all the dancers are squished into lines or boxes. Even if I don't dance C2, it's fun to damage the brain a bit with new concepts.

Last night was Plus/Advanced Club Night at DC Lambda Squares. I danced a couple of Plus tips, and a couple of Advanced tips. I really enjoy just being on the floor and moving around. Sometimes, I think this seems a little silly - you always start and end in the same place, and if you're out for a date with your partner, it isn't as if you're going to be dancing that much with your partner, anyway. I've tried picking up guys at square dances, and it's difficult. This is not a form of dancing that has a huge amount of sexual energy, which is probably a relief to many of the other dancers.

Hello Roundup, Goodbye Poison Ivy

Poison Ivy after Roundup®

Last fall, I found an unwelcome plant esconced in the side yard. It had three bright shiny leaves, and looked beautiful. Poison ivy is like some of my former boyfriends, beautiful to look at, but you wouldn't want it in your beds. As you can see, the PI also began growing up the maple tree.

Earlier this spring, I bought some Roundup®, but it's only been in the last few days that the weather has been good for spraying. From the results, it looks like the PI is on the way out. Roundup prevents plants from photosynthesizing their nutrients. Essentially, a sprayed plant starves to death. Roundup also claims to kill the roots, and that's a bigger concern of mine in regards to poison ivy.

I walked around the neighborhood, and the house immediately behind us has a lot along its borders and in the shady areas. The house is vacant and up for sale. I hope prospective homebuyers know what they are looking at. It's a nuisance weed, and will probably be back in our yard as long as it's growing next door.

Of course, disposing of the poison ivy is difficult, too. The active ingredient, urushiol, bonds well to human skin, lasts in the environment for several years, and vaporizes when burned. I'm not sure what to do with the plant residue. I think I'll probably dispose of it with the regular garbage, because I don't want someone getting a urushiol reaction if the garden waste got composted and put in somebody else's yard.

In the meantime, I've called American Landscaping, and they will be delivering a couple of yards of mulch so that I can spread it along the paths, and around areas where I'm trying to remove some English Ivy (Roundup® works on other plants, too!). I'll say this about Maryland's climate, lots of stuff grows here, and grows fast. I've never lived in a place that was so green.

Geometry at the Beach

Tim and I were in Rehoboth this last weekend, and had a hotel room that looked out over the ocean. We were talking about ships coming over the horizon, and how far out to sea one would be able to spot a ship. The more general question became, how far away is the horizon?

Tim put on his mathematics cap, and I got out my trusty pen and paper. Mind you, Tim did all of this without drawing any pretty pictures, which makes me think he keeps all of his geometry in his head.

Here's the fact I needed to know: the earth's radius is approximately 3950 miles. It's a little less at the poles, a little more at the equator. I was standing about 40 feet above the ground on the hotel balcony. I left the hotel maid a very cryptic scrap of paper:

horizon distance = (((r + h)^2) - (r^2))^(1/2)

Where:
r = the earth's radius: 3950 miles x 5280 ft/1 mile = 20,856,000 ft
h = observation height above the ground = 40 ft

I bet you didn't think that the handy distance formula you learned in high school geometry would ever have any use at the beach! Pythagorus didn't have Arabic numerals, and a handy calculator. I'll leave it up to the reader to do the math, but it comes out to about 7.74 miles, which is just about what I thought it was when I eyeballed it. I should have been a surveyor

Revealing Photos of a Wild Square Dance Weekend

No, you won't see any square dance photos here. That would be too twisted. I can't reveal any of the weird and secret rituals that go on at a gay square dance weekend....

However, I do have some photos of a wonderful Sunday on the way home from Rehoboth Beach, including a visit to the Adkins Arboretum.

Boardwalk Plaza Hotel

We had a fagulous hotel room at the Boardwalk Plaza. I'm sure our room was decorated by a Victorian gay interior decorator (duh!). Over the top and just right for a gay weekend in a former Methodist camp meeting town. Next time you are in Rehoboth, check out this wonderful pile of bricks. The place is sooo gay, complete with a 24/7 hot tub on the roof, and the staff is gracious and helpful. There are also two security cameras near the hot tub, so keep you clothes on. Tim and I spent a couple of relaxing hours in the hot tub reviewing Basic Challenge square dance calls while watching the fog roll in. Be sure to bring your swim suit for this warm and embracing experience.

Sunrise over Rehoboth Beach

Tim before coffee

The Sunday morning started very early for Tim. He was missing sunrise on the beach. With my tender pleading, I got him to the dance hall, and we proceeded to dance a couple of hours before heading back to the hotel to check out and get out on the beach.

Tim dancing on the beach

The fly-in was a total success. My Challenge buddies, Mein and Michael danced Challenge on Friday evening, then Michael had a back problem that persisted through Sunday - a real bummer. This is the first time that I was dancing full-level Challenge 1, and it caused my head to explode several times. Mein, on the other hand, looked calm and collected through the whole weekend.

Okay, so after dancing, Tim and I got out on the beach for a nice long walk up and down the beach, then down the boardwalk. Here Tim is performing a jig. That's what square dancing will do for you - rejuvenate you and get you to small beach towns in less-settled parts of the North American continent. Woo-hoo!

Happy's in Georgetown...

We blew Dodge shortly after 1 p.m. and happened into Georgetown a mere 45 minutes or so later. Here's Marilyn having a photo op in the town square. My butt got wet because the sprinkler had just turned off. A wet butt is a small price to pay for a glamour shot. Tim took this with his iPhone, and what a beautiful picture it turned out to be! I really feel sexy and hot.

I like these trips with Tim. We talk about all sorts of things. Foremost the conversation is about square dancing, which, since it is theological, has theoretically an infinite (blessed be) number of topics about which to talk. For instance, I was wondering out loud how far out to sea I could see from our balcony at the hotel. Tim, ever the applied mathematician, recited the Pythagorean theorem and plugged in Pi and a couple of square roots to come up with some answer that probably puzzled the room maid. I wrote it all down on a scrap of paper, but I've misplaced it. I'll leave the proof to the reader. Good stuff. It's minds like this that change the way America thinks. I love this kind of exploratory banter.

Adkins Arboretum

So we finally crossed Delaware and headed into verdant Maryland, my Maryland (our state song - and Maryland never even seceded the Union). If you ever get a chance, get off of Route 50 and drive a couple of miles to the Adkins Aroboretum. It's a real treat, and it's beautiful at this time of year. See it going to the beach or coming from the beach, but stop and take it in.

North American Bullfrog

This place is good for an hour or good for a day. You take your pick! Here's my favorite bullfrog. We could really hear them. While on a little foot bridge crossing a marshy creek, I saw several of them. You can't eat them, though! Just beyond the foot bridge is the visitor's center. It's chock full of brochures, maps, (and restrooms) - it costs $3, a bargain for an adventure.

Part of a paw-paw patch

This is a paw paw blossom. These fruit trees are native to Maryland, but you don't see many of them. The arboretum is a showcase of native species (including lots of poison ivy - the ivy is such a beautiful plant, but behaves like a bad date from hell; beware). Along the path, some pieces of artwork had been installed. The art blends in with the environment in an natural way. In the not too distant future, it won't be art; it will be part of the forest detritus. I like this kind of naturalistic expression. Our walk was very pleasant, and we did not run into many people at all. Just a short distance from the beach traffic is this little sylvan paradise, waiting to be discovered and enjoyed.

Art in the woods

We stayed at the arboretum for an hour or so. I hadn't seen a lady slipper for over forty years, and right along the path, one beckoned me to take its picture. Not to be outdone, a mourning cloak butterfly insisted that I capture is full dignity in a sunlit moment. This little gift from the State of Maryland is precious for all of us who pass by here.

Lady Slipper orchid

Mourning Cloak Butterfly

Rehoboth Bound

Gee, that headline almost sounds biblical. In any event, Tim and I expect to have an epic weekend in Rehoboth, regardless of Charlton Heston's demise. Chuck won't be there with his big stick. Instead, it will be Ben Rubright and Ett McAtee sticking it to us.

Okay, it's a gay square dance weekend - Pass the Ocean, a non-stop frolic - from Friday evening through Sunday noon. I expect my legs will be bloody stumps by the time we head back on Sunday afternoon.

For the first time in years, I'll be dancing a new level, Challenge 1. So all of you C1 dancers out there, beware, I'll be on the floor, breaking down your square. Some other people from DC Lambda Squares will be dancing with Mein, Michael, and I to shield the rest of the floor from the more disastrous effects of our newbie dancing. I'll have a full report on this on Monday.

Michael, Mein, and me at last weekend's C1 Workshop

25 Years of Good Eating

I think, sometimes, that my life is all about eating. I love to eat. Tonight, Ron and I went out to Nicaro's, a restaurant in Silver Spring, for our 25 anniversary "special" dinner. We had a wonderful time, and a wonderful meal.

What Ron ate for dinner

We started out with soup and salad. Ron finished off a cup of sweet potato and corn bisque. He gave me a taste, and it was creamy, earthy, and corny - a deliciously sweet dish that tastes much lighter than it sounds. I buffaloed a mozzarella and tomato compote salad, set off with a white anchovy. The cheese was seasoned with herbs and fresh basil. The compote had an assertive taste that complemented the cheese, and the anchovy, well, who wouldn't love an anchovy in that moment?

What Happy ate for dinner

For a main course, Ron had grilled waluu, a firm tuna-like white fish. It was served on a bed of vegetables and greens. He gave me a taste, and it was yummy. I had a difficult time ordering, but settled on the crab cake special. It was served with mussels on a green tomato "polenta" in a sea of golden broth, and topped with fried ramp. It looked spectacular, and was a wonderful mixture of flavor and textures. The green heirloom tomatoes had a surprising, strong and fresh tomato taste, and the broth was an amazing, homey liquor finally sopped up with the bread.

Dessert? I don't know where it went.

Dessert? Of course. Chocolate bread pudding with vanilla ice cream. It was light, and we should not have shared it. Next time, we'll order two. I ended with coffee.

I say two thumbs up. The service was unobtrusive, but efficient. The menu offers surprises; the chef takes chances and delivers. Nicaro's is a new restaurant, and the chef is out to make a name for it. We hope he's successful. We really enjoyed our meal. We'll go back before our 50th.

This is Ron eating breakfast...

Ron, eating a better breakfast

Tim, I'm blaming you. You wanted more pictures in my blog, and here one is! This is part of our domestic routine. I get up about two hours before Ron, get my reading done, then I fritter away the rest of my day. Ron saunters in a while later, after all, he is retired, and has a very healthy bowlful of Kashi™ Good Friends® and Post Shredded Wheat (Wheat 'n Bran Spoon Size) plus a soupçon of General Mills Whole Grain (yeah, right!) Reese's® (Peanut Butter) Puffs® (made from Hershey's cocoa) on top, all swimming in a sea of skim milk. Now that's a superhero's breakfast! As an added bonus, on some mornings he works on Sudoku during breakfast, sharpening his mind while eating good, or is he????

This morning, I went snuffeling through the cereal shelf in the kitchen, just to see how "healthy" this breakfast is, not only for Ron, but for our society at large. Here's the results of my investigation.

Kashi™ Good Friends® - Kashi bills itself as "The Seven Grain Company." Looking on the ingredient list, I see wheat, oats, rice, corn, rye, triticale, buckwheat, and barley (eight grain, maybe?). Many of those grains, however, occur a long ways down the ingredient list. The list is a little daunting, but looks healthy. A serving contains two grams of fat, no trans or saturated fat, and an astounding twelve grams of dietary fiber, 47% of the daily recommended amount. This may explain some of the sounds and fragrances in our home. An added bonus to this cereal is the Kashi™ Friendly Fiber Muffins recipe on the back of the cereal box. It looks pretty healthy, too, although I'm betting you can use them as hockey pucks.

Check out the Kashi web site. It has lots of good, accessible information that will help you live healthier, if a little airier.

Post Shredded Wheat, Wheat 'n Bran - Post has been on the food scene for a long time. Perhaps the Post's family's most sincere contribution to American culture and values is the Hillwood Estate, Museum, and Gardens in Washington, DC. Thank you Marjorie. The company (which started out as a health food outfit!) is currently a division of Kraft Foods.

I like the ingredients list on the cereal box: "Whole grain wheat and wheat bran. To preserve the natural wheat flavor, BHT is added to the packaging material. Contains: Wheat. What a relief! Each serving contains eight grams of fiber, not quite the colon-blowing experience of Kashi™ Good Friends®, but still a movement-inducing breakfast phenomenon.

Reese's® Puffs® - Reese's® Puff® is a General Mills product. The corporation's "Corporate Social Responsibility Report" is online. Maybe you should read that report before looking at the Reese's® Puffs® cereal box. Okay, I 'fess up, I eat Reese's® Puffs® all the time, because it's a fun, chocolate flavored confection. This is a fortified cereal, but sugar is the second ingredient on the ingredients list. Per serving, the cereal contains three grams of fat, and 12 grams of sugars, and only one gram of colon blow fiber. This cereal is basically a condiment.

The back of this box contains a list of "18 Things To Do Before You're 18." Parents might want to read this list first. I'm not sure I'd want my kids to be so accomplished. And is item 13 referring to gang activity: "Make it part of your crew's lingo?" Okay, I'm being hysterical here, but the tenor of this cereal box is a kid-centered world that teaches some damaging kid-centered values. Scary cereal box. Check out its kid-centered web site and cringe.

My verdict on Ron's breakfast: good to eat, healthy on the colon. I can overlook the Reese's® Puffs® because Ron is so sweet to begin with, and he only uses them for an accent of flavor (I, on the other hand, smear them all over my body, roll in them, and inhale deeply while licking myself and moaning loudly). And that's a peak at breakfast!

The Cereal Shelf

Mean Spirited

Usually when I use the words, "mean spirited," I'm talking about someone else. But sometimes it applies to me, too. Like yesterday after I got up. I must have gotten up on the wrong side of bed and taken some meanie pills, because I was a regular grouch, Happy with Bad Attitude and Bed Hair. I knew it would pass, but stay out of my way while I'm bad.

The person who suffers me most is Ron. And I'm publicly apologizing in this forum for sometimes (well... many times?) being snappish and nasty (in the bad sense) to him. If I ever treat any of you, my dear readers, this way, it usually isn't because I'm angry with you, it's just Happy being mean spirited. A walk, some food, maybe an extra coffee, a shopping trip, any combinations of the above will usually return my attitude to its normal sunny, sarcastic self, and you'll all be quite relieved.

Yesterday's experience involved computer hardware and software that was behaving badly, Ron trying to be helpful, me willfully taking Ron shopping* to a store that he wasn't all that excited to go to. I mean, it kind of gets diabolical. And I could feel it's hold on me, and I really had to restrain myself, which is scary, considering how mean I was being while restraining myself.

I don't like acting like Dick Cheney's public persona. I never auditioned for it, but I have it in spades sometimes. I don't know what kicks it off (well, Dick Cheney does), and I really do not like myself when I'm behaving so badly. It's my dark side, and my not-so-secret self. It's a mental thing, and it is hard to shake off when I'm feeling it, but happily, it usually passes very quickly, like bad gas at a cocktail party.

So if I appear ticked off, just give me wide berth for a half hour or so, then check back in. I'll probably be fine.

* After a few minutes, Ron did get kind of excited about shopping (Trader Joe's, what's not to love?) and by that time, my mood was out of the danger zone. Sweetie, I can be such a lunk, sometimes, and I'm sorry.

Lists

I'm bad for being organized (work was my great organizing principle), so today I made a list of about seven things I needed to get done. I've finished three of them, and I've done some other things that weren't on my list, but were pleasant distractions, anyway.

Not on my list: I wrote an email to my sister, just because it was fun, and I like staying in touch with her. Not on my list: I made some chicken soup. It's a cloudy, gray day here, and chicken soup seemed like just the ticket to make my world sunny again. We had some soup for lunch, and more is ready for dinner. A big plus is a lot of stuff from the veggie drawer in the refrigerator went into the soup. I had fun making it.

Visiting Dr. Bonecrusher wasn't on my list either. I joked with his staff out front, and he beat me up, again. It's weird, chiropractors (and he's pretty good) have to make some things hurt. I think it's in the cards. I don't mind it too much; I think it's more my response to manipulation than anything else.

I still have some square dance stuff to do. I also want to review the C-1 calls. The moral of today's blog entry is that lists do keep me focused, as long as they aren't too long, and as long as I have some other distractions to take my mind off my lists.

Intellectual Eating

Ron and I had a wonderful meal with my nephew, Joe, and his wife, Karen, last night at Bistro D'Oc. They had spent a day of sightseeing and lots of walking through the Jefferson Memorial and the National Archives. Then we met at their hotel and walked to the restaurant.

Bisto D'Oc features wonderful French country food in a pleasant, simple atmosphere. We dined in the blue dining room upstairs. We had a very knowledgeable and helpful waiter who took us through the menu and the specials. One item on the appetizers particularly interested me, lamb brains in a lemon butter sauce with capers.

Okay, I know you are already rolling your eyes and fighting the gag reflex. When I was a kid, my mother would scramble pork brains with eggs and serve them as a special breakfast. I remember those meals, and really enjoyed those augmented scrambled eggs with disguised brains.

In a few minutes our appetizers emerged from the kitchen. Five lamb brains were arranged in a large soup bowl, and they looked, graphically, like brains - something you would see in a medical text book, only cooked in a lemon butter sauce with capers. Indeed, I did have a visceral reaction to my plate, and some second thoughts about my decision (thinking, brain, thinking, food, thinking hmmmm).

I admit to some aversion to foods like brains, hearts, kidneys, and livers, although, I've eaten all of the above and enjoy them. I don't eat them very often though, not because they are rich with fat or filters for an animal's toxic wastes, but because organ meats somehow get at the substance and soul of the beast. These parts are what make an animal what it is. Somehow this kind of eating is different than hamburger or chop if not in fact, then in my mental construction of what meat is.

The lamb brains were delicious, but I think I'll wait another couple of decades before having them again. If nothing else, eating them gave me real pause, food for thought about my eating habits.

Happy Birthday, Tim

Every now and then, the boys get together to celebrate. This time it was Tim's birthday. We took a magical trip to the far exurbs to examine our inner vegetarian selves.

Google Map to the Washington Exurbs

Perry, Ron, and I drove up together. Clarksville is about 15 miles from Wheaton as the crow flies, but considerably longer by road if you follow Google Maps or the GPS in the car. Google Maps has this neat feature where you can alter the displayed route. I did that with a vengeance, and mapped out a journey that took us through some splendid springtime scenes of twilight, full of magical flowering bushes and green meadows. Layhill Road, Edson Lane, Tucker Lane, Ashton Road were purposely beautiful, just for us.

Birthday Boy with Cake

I'm certain Tim uses skincare products to maintain his youthful suppleness, which was all in evidence last night at Great Sage, a great restaurant with at least one table of rowdy patrons. What a night! Good food, good company, and the world's hippest waiter two decades too late.

Tim, Oenophile

Tim selected a wonderful wine that worked well with all of our appetizers and main courses. And we also had mandatory drinks: Perry had a swirly, Ron drank cranberry juice (without ice). I forget what Brian had, iced tea? Tim had the ginger mojito and I had an all-berry punch. It tasted okay, but not quite enough vodka.

We all like appetizers. The artichoke-spinach crostini was the ultimate gooey dip of which dreams and fortunes are made. It had the whiff of great sex, randy, forbidden naughty.

Artichoke-Spinach Dip with Crostini

The guacamole tostadas were short on the guacamole, but after the initial disappoinment had a strong follow through with crispy tortillas and very tasty beans, trusty vegan food with the tradition intact but without the Birkenstocks.

Guacamole Tostadas

This is the second time that Tim, Ron, and I have been to Great Sage. The restaurant is up in Clarksville in a strip mall. The restaurant is vegan/vegetarian and serves hearty, tasty food. I think we all enjoyed our entrees. I'm not much of a tofu guy, but my "Peruvian" style grilled tofu with vegetarian "ceviche" (the evening's special) was excellent. The tofu was well-seasoned and served with a cilantro sauce. The ceviche would never pass as the seafood variety, but taken by itself had a refreshing zingy taste and the crunchiness of onions with the chewiness of kernel corn. I liked the inventiveness, textures, and assertive tastiness of the food.

Brian had a vegetable Napolean (featuring roasted portabello mushrooms and veggies on polenta). Tim and Ron each ate the Indian Vegetable Cakes, and Perry lit into the Artichoke and Roasted Garlic Cream Pasta. Perry (touchingly) reserved the spinach in his dish for Ron.

When we had finished eating, the gentleman at the table behind us came over and chatted a bit about the wine, then he noted, "Four men...." I guess our secret was out. Urbane, witty gay men are perhaps rare birds in Clarksville, although we did note several diners who probably would have felt quite at home at our table.

We all finished big with dessert - the Hot Fudge Lava Cake with ice cream, Italian Sorbet, and Tim had the dessert special, Key Lime Cake with a cream filling. No hunger pangs were detected on the ride home.

Birthday Boy and Entourage

This Week in Wheaton

We have had a busy week in Wheaton. After the square dancing and the weed wacking incident, the fun continues. Yesterday, Ron and I visited the Finance Guys (FGs). They told me that I'll have to go back to work. They were quite severe with me, telling me that my profligate spendthrift ways were imperiling the already weak dollar, and that I was one of the single biggest causes of the United States trade deficit. I plead guilty as charged. So I've decided to become a greeter at WalMart. See me in your neighborhood soon.

After meeting with the FGs, and I do have to say that their advice is very, very good - I also enjoy their sartorial presence, not to mention the deeply edifying, nay motivating engagement they have with us once a quarter to help us survive our retirement, or die trying, which come to think of it, will probably be the sad outcome. Meanwhile, we came back to Chez Boiz and took a pleasant afternoon walk.

The weather was delightful, and the mild exercise took my mind off of the plumbing problems that have plagued me of late. Ron doggedly set his course down the street, and I ran circles around him (literally, I mean I run around him while we are walking), mainly to find out what would happen. A smile slowly crinkled across his face, he rolled his eyes, raised his hands up in the air in a hopelessly resigned gesture, and hugged me, or ignored me, and life is wonderful and transcendent in this moment. I would not want to be any other place but here, acting very silly with the soberest straight man sidekick in the universe. But I do make him smile, and he makes me profoundly happy - much like the Finance Guys do, especially the cute one.

The urologist adjusted my medications, and you're reading the results. Joe, I'm sorry if you are finding all of this alarming, Pyridium does this to me every time I take it. Side effects. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times, "Read the label." I didn't realize that something that could color my pee a violent orange would actually be such a mood elevator. And it's cheap, too. Of course, it can ruin your kidneys and stain your underwear, so you might take it with some caution, and not everyone will experience such salubrious effects that I have. Because, I'm special....

Seriously, I'm actually not even using the Pyridium(although I filled the prescription), because I read its side effects label and decided, uh-uh. I really haven't needed any pain relief. And now, at Day Three, I feel much improved over Day One. So why the bizarre mood this morning? I'm not sure. I guess I'm just happy today, well manic today. And I kind of like feeling this way. It's spring and I have sprung!

Mein came over last night to review (yet again) Challenge 1 square dance calls. He and I went through just about every call on the list. We either walked through them or checkered them. The most confusing thing for me right now is distinguishing the various call names and movements from each other, because the names and moves have similarities across calls. This is why square dancing is so evil and so cool. I've never participated in an activity that is so intellectually challenging, so physically active, and so friendly all at once. Mein stayed for about three and hours after which my head was full, much too full.

Today started off with a bang, literally. A ManHunt buddy showed up on my doorstep at 7:04 a.m. (Maybe that's the reason for the elevated mood.) He wanted to come over, because he's moving to Virginia tomorrow. I'll probably never see him again, which is sad, because he is a very nice, foxy guy who amuses and amazes me. I'm thinking I'll figure out how to navigate to Virginia. Of course, he's always welcome here, too. He's young, and I find the differences between his life and mine to be fascinating. I just enjoy talking with him, and I'm not going to discuss the other stuff here....

Today, we're going to celebrate Tim's birthday. I'm excited about it. I love celebrations. After a deeply personal celebration, we're going to Great Sage up in Clarksville, Maryland for dinner. Ron, Tim, and I have eaten there before, and the food is truly wonderful vegetarian. I'll write more about it after our dinner. Perry and Brian are joining us too, and we're going to have a wild boys night out (yeah, right).

The other news for the week is that my nephew and his wife, Joe and Karen, are in town. We're having dinner with them tomorrow night at Bistro D'Oc downtown. This is the third year that they've come into town. Joe has business here, and Karen comes in for the weekend. I really enjoy this visit with family, and they are such a super couple. They also call us Uncle John and Uncle Ron, which sound so unfamiliar, yet so musical to my ears. Nobody ever calls me uncle anything, so I like it!

Finally, a word about the Finance Guys. They just published an article the Journal of Financial Planning, "A Guide to Serving the Estate and Financial Planning Needs of Gay Men, Lesbians, and Same-Sex Couples." Joseph Kapp and Nicholas E. Burkholder, March 2008. pp 54-64. They've gotten a lot of good feedback from other planners about the article, and lots of inquiries about how to serve lesbian and gay clients. More to the point, Joe Kapp and Nick Burkholder have worked very hard over the last four years to gain and earn our trust and business. I am so pleased that they are getting recognition for the excellent work they do for their clients. Readers, plan for our future now. Both Joe and Nick promised to come out and be guest greeters with me at your neighborhood's Wal-Mart, when I put in my appearance, there (just kidding) (or not).

Medical Bulletin

Okay, no big news to report. It still stings, and I still have some blood in my urine, but it's no big deal, and I'm not letting it get in the way of a good time. I'm more concerned about my Challenge-Level attempt at square dancing than I am about my penis, because frankly, I think that's the right priority. Nothing should get in the way of square dancing, unless it's a cruise in the Caribbean in January.... (Tim, talk to me.)

I talked with my Mom and my brother over the last couple of days, and both of them continue to improve. And that's about it for this episode of General Hospital.

Twenty-five Years

Yesterday marked twenty-five years that Ron and I have known each other. We think of it as our anniversary, although we have a different set of milestones, perhaps, than other couples. We met in one of the apartment houses on Cleveland Ave, NW in Washington, DC, in front of the elevator on our way to a potluck dinner. Ron was facilitator for a group called Washington Area Gay and Lesbian Scientists. The group was having its monthly potluck. He was looking for a scientist, and I was looking for one, too. I guess it was fate.

I impressed him that first meeting. I think he liked the way I smoked my cigarettes. Or maybe it was the hayseed on my lapel. I'm not sure which. At any rate, when the potluck broke up, Ron, in his best facilitating way, was going around thanking the guys for coming. When he got to me, I asked him if he liked to dance, and he said yes. I asked him if he'd like to go out, and he said, "When?" I said, "Right now." He agreed, and we went to the Fraternity House on our first date. It really was a date; we didn't have sex until the following week, so maybe we should celebrate our twenty-fifth next week.

Or maybe we should celebrate our twenty-fifth next year on June 1, the date we moved in together, or maybe a couple of weeks earlier when we signed our living together agreement. Gay couples have a difficult time figuring out exactly when and what to commemorate, so we've stuck with the initial meeting - a night at a gay bar discovering that we had absolutely nothing in common, and deciding over the next several months, that that was quite enough with which to fashion a relationship.

Early in 1984, Ron was notified that his apartment building in Arlington, VA was being converted to a condominium. He didn't particularly want to own a place, so he proposed that we live together. I told him that if we did, we needed a living together agreement, and he was amenable to that. I read what I could about such documents, and had some difficulty with it, because I didn't know how permanent we wanted to make it. After all, we didn't know any couples that had been together for a long time, so we set our time horizon for five years, figuring that it probably wouldn't last that long, but what the heck.

When we moved in together in 1984, we stayed in that apartment in Silver Spring for five years and a month. Because of circumstances in the apartment building, we decided that we had to move, and did so in July 1989. At that point, we decided that we could extend our relationship horizon to ten or fifteen years, and bought a townhouse in Wheaton. Well, it's been downhill ever since, and now it's been twenty-five years, and it doesn't seem like that at all. I clearly remember our fifteenth anniversary celebration. We certainly talked about something for twenty five, but that will probably have to wait for fifty. Time is whizzing by at about the same pace that my nose and ear hairs are growing.

As time has gone by, we've taken opportunities to protect legally our relationship. It's difficult, time-consuming, and expensive to do. At this point, I think we're in it for the duration of our natural lives. And I'm just fine with that. I love Ron dearly and am deeply grateful that we have a life together.

This May Sting a Little When You Urinate

With those parting words, my urologist, cum surgeon, walked out of the pre-op waiting room at Suburban Hospital. He also told me no heavy lifting (fat chance) or working out for the next two weeks. "I want you to be a couch potato." He also gave me a prescription for Pyridium, which will turn my pee bright orange.

So today was the biopsy. I salute Doris and the other pre-op nurse who were really kind and very conscientious. The could say the phrase, "prostate lesion," without giggling, and were very sympathetic. Each had a twinkle in her eye. Doris was a little pained to see my pierced nipple and navel (we had to tape them down - note to self, shave the hair next time). She asked me if they hurt. I said I guess so, but that happened fifteen years ago.

They got me an extra-long hospital gown. As the pre-op nurse said, "You don't want to look mini." I thought that was quite considerate, considering the circumstances. After doffing my clothes and donning my gown, she got me comfortable in the bed and started an IV drip. At this point, Ron left the room hurriedly. Doris looked at me and said, "Needles." I nodded, figuring that she didn't need to revive him if he fainted.

This initial drama lasted about 45 minutes, at the end of which, I took my drip and pole and trundled off to the bathroom. You'd be surprised how complicated it is to hit the bowl while you are holding the tube that is dripping saline into your arm. I practiced a few square dance calls, too.

After Doris finished prepping me, my doctor came in for a chat, telling me about the stinging sensation after each urination for the next three weeks. He was going to perform a cystoscopy first, and then the biopsy, if it was necessary (it was).

As soon as the doc gave me his parting advice, the anesthesiologist came in, started a prophylactic antibiotic, then told me his drill - Versed, and two general anesthetics. He called in Shirley, the surgical nurse, who finished prepping me for the trip to the operating room. Each of the people involved, the two pre-op nurses, my doctor, the anesthesiologist, and the surgical nurse, all asked me my name and my date of birth. Some of them asked me where I lived. They all compared my patient number on my wrist with a plastic card, and my patient history. The surgical nurse actually asked me what my procedure was going to be. I thought about saying, "heart transplant," but then thought better of it.

The anesthesiologist started the Versed, and we were off to the operating room. I have to tell you, the operating room looked like an industrial cleaning closet (I used to be a janitor). I mean, I'm sure the place is clean, but it appeared cluttered with equipment, and stuff. I never saw the doctor again. I woke up in recovery. (I'm told that for the biopsy, he threaded a weed wacker up my penis, and just turned it on. My dick is about two inches shorter :-)

Christy was the recovery nurse. She was one busy person, and always smiling and energetic. She covered me with an extra blanket, which I really appreciated. I had three diet colas and some graham crackers. After resting for a half hour or so, Christy wanted me to take a pee. She said it might sting, and it did. She pulled the curtain, Ron came in, and I got dressed. I signed some releases, they plopped me in a wheel chair, and delivered me to the McKinley Street entrance to the hospital. I'd been there for about five hours.

The doctor had talked to Ron in the waiting room. The growth on my prostate appears to be benign, and I'll have results in about two weeks. Ron looked relieved to see me, and I was certainly happy to see him. We headed off to Silver Diner so that I could get some food in my stomach.

I had to go pee at the Silver Diner. I apologize to any who followed me, because although I did try to clean everything up, it did kind of look like an ax murder had taken place. I bled all over the front of my jeans, but that's what washing machines are for. I'm glad to be home, typing this.

I Forgot Tim's Birthday

Tim had a birthday on Sunday, and I forgot all about it. Ron asked me about it late Sunday night (I think), but I was already a day late and a dollar short. I've put it on my calendar for next year. In fact, I put all the boyz birthdays on my calendar. Of course, I'm quite capable of forgetting to look at my calendar, too, but there is less chance I'll miss the days completely. What was I thinking? I was thinking C-1 square dance calls. Tomorrow is Ron's and my 25th anniversary. That's a date I don't remember very well, either....

Busy Week

I'm back home from a long weekend in Poughkeepsie. For the record, we never made it to downtown Poughkeepsie, but we got to know the South Road strip pretty well. We came back home to rain, and Perry told me this morning that the forecast was for another 39 days of it. Really depressing!

So this morning has seen a flurry of emails to schedule reviews and learning new C1 calls. I think we're doing stuff tonight, Wednesday night, Saturday night, and a couple of sessions on Sunday. By that time, my brain should be like steel cut oats, not mushy, but certainly chewed on.

Tomorrow I'm going to Suburban Hospital for a prostate biopsy, or as the Dr. says, a "urethra lesion." They both sound bad. I'm not looking forward to it. I have to be there at 10:40 a.m., and the doctor does his thing at 12:40. He said it will take about a half hour, but with the anesthesia and stuff, I don't expect to get out of the hospital until after 4 p.m. or so.

Later in the week, Joe and Karen (my nephew and his wife) will be in town, so we'll spend an evening with them. I may not be able to make it to a Saturday dance practice, but that's okay. I like visiting them, and hope that we have good weather for their stay.

Day Three

Today is gray, and I'm exhausted. We have had a long weekend, and will be ending our dancing weekend with a short session before lunch. I think that's okay, considering that my brain is very fragile today. Ken Ritucci has been our instructor. He's very upbeat and supportive of the class. Many of the class members already know C1, but are taking this as a refresh, but Ken has been teaching it for beginners.

We won't get through the whole list, but we are far enough through it that we'll be able to pick up the remaining 20 or 30 calls on our own, then continue with the Wednesday Night Workshop, or with the Ettseteras. In any case, I'm going to continue with this. Michael is ready to organize an all-day C1 workshop to before convention. He, Mein, and I have been pleased with the weekend, but want to finish up the list and continue to dance C1.

Mein has been taking lots of photos and videos of our weekend. We are thoroughly documented. I'm sure that one or more pictures will appear, magically, on the DC Lambda Squares front page. Mein danced the weekend with Marion, so he was a boy all weekend. Michael was my partner. The gender thing was throwing a lot of the men dancers. They'd look at Michael and freak. I think he looks pretty girly. Especially the beard.

As for Poughkeepsie, we never made it to downtown. We're well acquainted, though with the strip malls between here and the dance hall. We've have a couple of very nice meals. We've mostly hung out at the hotel (The Poughkeepsie Courtyard Marriott). Each night after dancing, some of the dancers have gotten together in Room 270 for beer, snacks, and square dancing lore. I don't know how these people stay up all night then dance C1 the next day. And some of them have two decades on me. Oh well.

Michael looked at the weather forecast for today, and I'm not enthused about the drive home. It looks like we'll be driving into heavy rainstorms all the way home. It will be a slow, wet slog.

Dance Weekend

Michael, Mein, and I are merrily dancing our way through Challenge 1. So far it's been a very good weekend, but I'm exhausted, and I notice that my concentration is waning. We stayed up too late last night.

On our way up here, we studied many of the calls, and that's really helped us stay ahead of the weekend, but we've reached the end of the calls that we've reviewed, so we are going to experience a lot more mental duress in the next day and a half. The weekend has been very intense.

When we get back to DC, we're going to try to arrange a couple of sessions to get us through the complete C1 list, and to review all the calls. Of course, we'll be dancing in the C1 room at Rehoboth.

During this weekend, Michael has been dancing girl with me. It has thrown some of the other dancers off a bit. They just don't expect to be dancing with a girl with a beard, I guess.

Poughkeepsie

Michael, Mein, and I are in Poughkeepsie, at the Courtyard Marriott. Three guys in a hotel room. I guess I'm in heaven, or maybe with the angels (that was a bad pun, you square dancers out there). The three of us are in a C-1 Blitz Weekend here in Poughkeepsie. We talked C-1 calls all the way up here. We're about half way through the list, and we haven't even hit the dance floor, yet.